


Thanksgiving RPS

by Lisztful



Category: Merlin (BBC) RPF
Genre: Bradley/Colin - Freeform, M/M, Merlin RPS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisztful/pseuds/Lisztful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Col," Bradley says, "I'm serving Thanksgiving dinner at half past six.  Don't be late, yeah?"<br/>"Bradley," Colin says slowly,  "Are you or are you not quite aware that we aren't American?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanksgiving RPS

**Author's Note:**

> I ALWAYS SWORE I WOULD NEVER WRITE RPS EVER FOR ANY REASON. I FAIL. Also do not own Bradley or Colin, Merlin, etc. and am very sorry to abuse them thusly for the benefit of a highly illogical thanksgiving!fic.

One afternoon in late November, Colin gets a call from Bradley.

This, in itself, is not unusual. Colin gets a call from Bradley when it's cold, when it's hot, when the picture on the tube is fuzzy, when he's just heard a strange noise from the flat above his, when he's had a particularly good ice cream or cup of tea or something, and sometimes, because Bradley just woke up and it's half past two.

So, the calling part is rather ordinary, but the nature of the call is not ordinary at all.

"Col," Bradley says, "I'm serving Thanksgiving dinner at half past six. Don't be late, yeah?"

Colin is quiet for a moment, running through his mental catalogue of all the weird things that Bradley has ever said ever.

Then, "Bradley," he says slowly, "Are you or are you not quite aware that we aren't American?"

"Colin, what do you take me for?" Bradley asks, affronted. "Of course we aren't _American_."

"So," Colin tries, enunciating very clearly, "Why are we celebrating _American_ Thanksgiving? On a Thursday. With no notice."

"Ah," Bradley says, and it takes him a moment to come up with, "Because I said so, _Colin_, now be here at half past six."

Colin waits about ten seconds, just in case this whole thing is some strange daydream, then calls Angel.

"I think Bradley's gone insane," He says, in response to her cheerful hello.

"Oh lord," Angel replies. "I've just had a message from him. Is this about Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah," Colin says. "I asked him all the usual questions, like when did you hit your head, and are you aware of who you're talking to. He seemed lucid and all."

Angel's silent for a moment. Then, "Well, I suppose we'd better have Thanksgiving dinner." She gasps. "You don't – you don't think he's cooking, do you?"

Colin facepalms. "Oh good, so I'm going to a holiday that I don't celebrate, for a country that I don't live in, to have a meal that I cannot. Bloody. Eat. It'll be all meat, I know it will."

"All meat is the least of our problems," Angel answers, in her most dire voice. "Bradley can barely make a sandwich. I don't know if he's ever even really looked at a stove."

"We've got to get over there as soon as possible," Colin says, and Angel agrees.

Anthony calls Colin just as he's about to step into Angel's car.

"This is a disaster," Anthony says briskly as Colin picks up the call. "I want you to know, I'm bringing the wine. You people can sort out the dishes for yourselves. You know Bradley's going to poison us, don't you?"

"We're on our way to control the damage," Colin says briskly, "Thanks ever so for all your help."

"Right, _lots_ of wine, then," Anthony says, and hangs up.

Colin and Angel stop at a supermarket near Bradley's flat. Colin picks out fresh vegetables and garlic, and Angel chooses small potatoes and sniffs at all the herbs before choosing the best bunches.

After a short conversation via mobile in the check-out queue, Angel informs Colin that Katie has been alerted and is on her way to join them, then they take their groceries and walk the remaining distance to Bradley's flat. Angel sounds the buzzer, using her most diplomatic voice, and in a moment they're inside, and it's clearly not a moment too soon.

Bradley is covered with bits of what is hopefully stuffing, and stained with gravy. His smile looks plastered on and seems to be hiding some sort of interior crisis.

"Lo Bradley," Angel says sweetly, and ducks under his arm. "We're here to see to this turkey. You haven't started it, have you?"

"Not exactly," Bradley says cagily, and Colin picks a bit of breadcrumb out of his hair and pushes past him.

It's true, the turkey hasn't exactly been started. It's on the table, looking very, very raw and very intimidating.

Angel sighs. "So, how were you planning to cook this, then? What recipe are you using?"

Bradley goes pale, something that is a bit difficult to see beneath the flour in which his face is inexplicably covered. "Recipe? I thought I'd just set it in the oven until it looks good."

Colin resists the urge to reprise his facepalm. Fortunately, Angel is both more capable and more patient. "Where's your laptop?" she asks, and when Bradley gestures at the counter, she opens it and searches for turkey recipes on the internet.

A few minutes later, she's muttering things about basting and searing, and leaves to buy a meat thermometer, after instructing Colin to help Bradley chop up vegetables.

Colin digs around until he finds the cutting board and a few knives, then washes the vegetables and pulls Bradley over to help.

Together, they mince the garlic and slice up the onion, wincing and sobbing and laughing at each other for all of it.

They're shoulder to shoulder, and Bradley knocks his hip against Colin's and grins so hard that it crinkles up the corners of his eyes. Colin finds it a little difficult to breathe.

Angel returns after a few moments, and they lift the turkey into a pan and stuff it, then add the vegetables. Angel does something very mysterious with the baster, and they put the turkey into the oven.

The rest of the day is spent chopping and stirring and cooking. Angel mashes up her potatoes with butter and scallions, and Colin cooks his vegetables, plump carrots and onions and celery in one pot, and spinach and garlic in another.

Katie arrives in the mid-afternoon and supervises the assembly of a brace of enormous fruit tarts, filled to the bursting with sliced apples and walnuts.

Bradley's bought corn, and a jumble of other foods that he apparently thought would magically put themselves together in some sort of appealing formation. They prepare the corn with butter, and Angel makes brown rice and barley.

Finally, they're trying to fit everything onto Bradley's tiny table, and they're all at least as filthy as he is, covered in drips of butter and with oil smeared on their faces and flour in their hair. Colin thinks it's completely worth it, though, to see Bradley all sweet and happy and grinning.

Anthony arrives promptly at half past six, and he really has brought rather a lot of wine. They sit down together and eat, Colin sandwiched between Bradley and Anthony and forced to elbow Bradley every time he takes a bite.

Somehow, it's all delicious. Colin still has very little idea what they're all doing celebrating thanksgiving, but it's nice to be with everyone, and they're all warm and fuzzy with wine and stuffed with good, hot food. They don't talk about anything, really, but Angel's laughter is easy and full, and Anthony animatedly tells a story right through an over-ambitious mouthful of potato. Katie is calm, but can't keep her mouth from quirking into a small, contented smile, and Bradley, Bradley is radiant.  
Afterward, they all move to the next room to sprawl around and watch some program that none of them really cares about.

Bradley is close and warm and pliant next to Colin, and as they pass a bottle of red wine around the room, Colin feels Bradley's palm graze his side, where his t-shirt's ridden up just a bit above the band of his jeans.

His hand is warm, and a bit rough with callous, and Colin shivers into it, sated and happy and unbelievably comfortable, and tips his forehead to touch the side of Bradley's head. He doesn't stop until he can feel the softness of Bradley's pale hair.

Bradley has the bottle in his other hand, and he takes a rough swig of it, a surprising motion in the midst of everyone's lethargy. A bit of it trickles from the corner of his lips, red against his perfect, pale mouth, and everyone's nearly asleep anyway, and staring at the television, and Colin can't resist bringing his thumb to the juncture of Bradley's lips and drawing it over the wine, and licking it off his hand.

Bradley draws in a quick breath, and his head declines just slightly against Colin's as though he has pressed just fractionally closer, and Colin feels the slightest bit of pressure from the hand at his side. Suddenly, he can't believe he's never touched Bradley before. How could he never have done anything like this? How could he never have seen Bradley like this, before?

Beside him, Angel's started to snore lightly, pillowed on Anthony's shoulder. Anthony is bright red, probably a mixture of wine and British propriety, but equally as lazy as the rest of them and so is suffering in silence. Katie is graceful as always, but even she is uncharacteristically relaxed.

Still, it's Katie who leaves first, saying that she did have actual plans for the evening before Bradley insisted she come over here and stuff herself. Anthony goes soon after, in a cab, and says that he'll stop by for his car later, when he's sobered up.

Angel is jostled awake by his departure, and says she'll take the tube. She gives Colin one long, steady look, then tells him that he ought to wait until he wakes up a bit more to leave.

Then, Colin's alone with Bradley, still sandwiched closely together on the couch and facing in the general direction of a program that he can't hear a word of, thanks to the rapid beating of his heart. Bradley stirs, slightly, and Colin feels suddenly, sharply cold where their bodies are no longer in contact.

"Good dinner?" Bradley asks sleepily, and he nods. "Surprisingly good."

"Glad you liked it," Bradley says thickly, and ducks his head. "All for you."

Colin shifts, surprised. "I'm sorry, what?"  
Bradley shrugs, and he's definitely abashed. "Just wanted to be with you," he mutters. "And everyone. All together." His head is bent so sharply that Colin can feel Bradley's lips brushing the collar of his shirt. "Just thought it would be nice."

Bradley's breath is sweet and warm on his neck, and for a moment, it feels wretched, putting his hand under Bradley's chin and drawing his face away and up to Colin's, but then Colin closes the last tiny space between them and presses his lips to Bradley's and everything is suddenly so much better.

Bradley makes a low noise, deep in his throat, and twists his body so they're really facing one another, and then he's kissing Colin back, pressing their lips slowly more and more together, until Colin feels as though Bradley will kiss right through them. He's almost pensive, and his kisses are soft and mellow but also careful, and Colin thinks, that won't do, so he takes Bradley by the shoulders and turns him so his back is against the back of the couch, and kneels above him, pressing his knees to the outside of Bradley's thighs.

Bradley is completely still for a moment, tense and apprehensive, and Colin sits back on his heels, his stomach tight.

Then, Bradley's expression clears, and he murmurs, "Colin…Colin," and his arms come up around him and pull him down to Bradley, and he urges him forward with flat of his hand laid over Colin's jaw, and this time, his lips brush Colin's with something that is not force but rather, direction, and his tongue is warm as he licks over the seam of Colin's lips and deeper, against and behind Colin's teeth until their tongues meet. Bradley is hard beneath him, pressing at Colin's inner thigh as Colin grinds down into his lap, panting.

Bradley is gasping now, as he sucks Colin's lower lip into his mouth and draws his teeth over the softness of it. He pulls Colin closer, closer yet, and his hands are at the base of Colin's neck, big and warm and pulling him close.

Colin pants and arches into his kiss, biting and sucking at Bradley's lips until he looks woozy, kissed senseless. Bradley's hands slide down, over the base of his neck and the planes of his shoulders, and below his ribs, inward, and then out again, as he grasps Colin by the hips and presses him down against Bradley, and he says, wonderingly,

"You're hard, _Colin_."

Colin can't help grinning. "So're you." He rolls his hips a little, proving his point with Bradley's gasp.

"Are you gay?" He asks breathlessly, and it's not an accusation, just an inquiry.

Colin laughs. "Completely gay. And you, Mr. James?"

Bradley goes all pensive and Colin can't help leaning forward to lavish kisses upon his brow. Bradley nips at the underside of his chin and leaves a trail of wet kisses along the curve of his neck. "To tell the truth," he says between sucking twin marks just beneath Colin's jaw, "I'd never given it a thought, but now it's seeming pretty brilliant."

Colin leans forward to nip at Bradley's ear, pleased when it results in a breathy moan.

"I'll show you brilliant," he murmurs, and leans forward to slip his fingertips under the hem of Bradley's shirt and drag it up and over his head. Bradley's completely at ease like this, all on display; perfect, flat stomach and show-off abs. He's equally comfortable tugging Colin out of his own shirt and laying his hands flat on Colin's stomach, fingertips dragging over his ribs.

"Brilliant," Bradley says again, and shifts forward to take a nipple in his mouth, making Colin gasp and moan, thickly, as Bradley's tongue slides around and over his nipple and his teeth graze just the tiniest bit.

It's too much, already, just this tiny touch and Colin's afraid he'll come, so he slides down the couch and curls his fingers under the waistband of Bradley's trousers, one thumb atop the other on the button of his fly. "Alright?" he asks, and Bradley shudders and nods.

It's the work of a moment to unzip Bradley's trousers and drag them off his hips and down to his thighs, only a moment more for the pants to receive the same treatment, but it feels like hours, the progress of the fabric as it tugs away and reveals the expanse of Bradley's body. He's really unfairly pretty, Colin thinks, and bites at the jut of his hipbone.

Bradley makes a highly attractive noise that Colin takes to mean, "You are a sex god, Colin Morgan, and could you please touch my cock?"

He can't argue with eloquence like that, so he sucks a path down Bradley's thigh, presses his hands to the hollow just above his hipbones, and licks delicately at Bradley's cock.

It's only a ghost of a touch, but it sets Bradley to shivering and gasping, and that's really a very nice way for Bradley to be, so Colin licks at the head of his cock again, and then once again, and then takes it in his mouth and sucks at the head, as Bradley rakes at the arm of the couch and clasps Colin's bicep like it's the only thing keeping him from sliding off the couch, which maybe it is.

Colin glances up at Bradley, who looks close to destroyed, and then, very deliberately, takes Bradley in as deep as he can go, not breaking eye contact until Bradley stills completely and squeezes his eyes shut.

He begins to move, sucking and pressing the flat of his tongue to the underside of Bradley's cock, and encouraging him to set a rhythm by urging his hips forward and back.

Bradley's breathing is labored, an unending stream of delicious little noises, occasionally punctuated by a moan that Colin wrenches out of him as he hums and sucks and cups his balls and presses his knuckles just behind them.

"Wait," Bradley gasps, and tries to still Colin's head. His face is contorted, panicked. "I'm going to come in about ten seconds if you don't stop."

Colin nods encouragingly, and redoubles his efforts. Coming is, after all, the point. Bradley sobs, then, and goes tense and rigid, and cries, "Oh God," and then he's coming and Colin's swallowing it all down.

Bradley's body goes limp, collapsed back into the couch, but he pulls Colin up his body and kisses him, and then, before Colin can even look pleadingly at him, he scrabbles at the zip of Colin's trousers and pulls his cock out of his pants and strokes the length of it, smooth and sure and still unbelievably desperate. Colin lasts about three seconds before he comes in Bradley's hand, and Bradley keeps stroking him all the way through it, only slowing when Colin sobs and his arms give out and he falls forward into the crook of Bradley's neck.

After, Bradley's arms come up around Colin, and he pushes them over so they can lay, still entangled, down the length of the couch. Bradley draws Colin closer with one lazy, expansive arm, and brushes Colin's sweat-slicked hair off his forehead.

Colin tucks his head beneath Bradley's into the warm swell of his shoulder, and murmurs, "Well, that was somewhat unexpected."

"Speak for yourself," Bradley says, tugging at the blanket folded over the top of the couch and drawing it over them. "I've been trying to seduce you for ages."

"Hmm." Colin wriggles a little, until Bradley lets him shove his foot between Bradley's ankles. "Don't stop, okay?"

Bradley just smiles and presses a kiss on the top of Colin's head, and says, "How could I?"


End file.
